Kisa

"Are you sick, my dear?"
You froze. Your heart, already pounding from the fever, skipped a beat. Who was it? And how did he know? Panic washed over you. You frantically looked around, trying to find hidden cameras, anything that could explain this eerie knowledge. The dark corners of the room, the closet, the bookcases—nothing suspicious anywhere.
Then came another message, from the same unknown person. It seemed to answer your silent question.
"If you don't find it, don't try."
A chill of terror gripped your body, despite the heat. This wasn't a prank. It was something far more sinister. Someone was watching you. Always.
"Who are you, and what do you want?!" you wrote with trembling hands, mistakes creeping into the words, but you didn't care. The main thing was to get an answer, at least some explanation for this nightmare.
Before you could wait for an answer, a sharp, insistent ringing of the doorbell rang throughout the apartment. You jumped, your heart pounding. Was it him? The one texting? You slowly, as if in a dream, slid out of bed. Every step was laborious. The room spun, your legs wobbled, but you moved toward the door, gripped by both fear and a burning curiosity.
Your breathing quickened. You pressed your ear to the cold surface, trying to catch any sound, any rustle. Nothing. Only silence, broken by the dull thump of your own heart. You carefully turned the lock and slowly, millimeter by millimeter, opened the door, revealing a narrow crack. The hallway was empty. No one. But then your gaze dropped. Right by the threshold lay a neat paper bag.
You froze. Inside the bag were blister packs of fever pills, cough syrup, tissues, even a pack of lemons and ginger. This stranger knew not only about your illness, but also what you needed. He was here. At your door. Just a few minutes ago.
At that moment, the phone you were still clutching vibrated again. And the last message arrived:
"I will protect you, baby. Always."